


Taking Snapshots in Life (and timing is what matters most)

by isuilde



Category: Free!
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unrepentant Fluff, discussions of sexual life and sexual situations, glasses shopping!, in which everyone ships makorin, ish, iwatobi white day, one shots collection, or something idk ahahaha, seimakorin shiptease, sleepovers shenanigans, straight razor shaving, study dates, warning: blade nicks, warning: dangerous children shenanigans, warning: do not try it at home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1325485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isuilde/pseuds/isuilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots written for Iwatobi White Day. Each is a stand-alone fic, you may read into it as far as you want.</p><p>Things included in this work: sleepovers shenanigans, children being dumb in a HS!-setting, straight razor shaving, a night of exchanging comfort, Seijuurou's morbid curiosity over Makoto and Rin's sex life, study sessions and glasses-shopping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Sleepovers and Hooking Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ad_Astra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra/gifts), [Miaou Jones (miaoujones)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/gifts), [tawnyPort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawnyPort/gifts), [risotto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/risotto/gifts).



> These are all the one-shots I wrote for [Iwatobi White Day](http://iwatobiwhiteday.dreamwidth.org/). I had a lot of fun doing this, and even though they're all not of great qualities, I hope all the locker owners enjoyed them at last a little bit! :D You guys rock!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confession might not be what Rin had planned, but Makoto likes it all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first one is for [Ad_Astra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra), our ever fabulous writer.
> 
> .....Dani, I'm really sorry I lied. ;^;

Nagisa brings a nail art set.

Currently, he sprawled out on the floor, flat on his stomach, humming as he paints Haruka’s toenail with excellent amount of focus. Haruka himself doesn’t respond, just looks straight at the screen he wrestles the controller, his character in the screen duking it out with Rin’s.

Makoto turns from the screen to watch Nagisa’s progress, not-quite astonished to see that he’d chosen blue for Haruka. He suspects Nagisa’s brought different color for each of them, but he’s too scared to ask. “Nagisa, are you sure you don’t want to play your turn?”

Nagisa makes an absent noise of refusal, and Makoto decides to let him be. Rei leans over towards him, nudging Makoto’s side before whispering, “At least he didn’t bring the pink ones.”

“Rei-chan!” Nagisa looks up, points the tiny brush he’s holding like a weapon at them. “I think your toes would look beautiful in pink!”

Rei perks up hesitantly. “You think so?”

“Pink’s a good color,” Rin says, and then proceeds to curse a blue streak when Haruka’s character executes a move that finishes him off. “What the fuck happened—Haru, how did you do that?!”

“He mashes the buttons,” Makoto supplies helpfully. “Haru’s very good in that.”

Haruka turns a blank look at them, but there’s a distinct look of smugness in his eyes. “Next.”

Makoto takes the controller with a huffing laugh, but Rin looks dead in his eyes and tells him, “If you don’t get the smug bastard, we are officially over.”

Makoto flushes. “We’re not even in a relationship, Rin.”

“If you lost, I’ll be in a relationship with you just so I can dump you,” Rin replies nonchalantly, rising to his feet and throwing himself on Makoto’s bed, flat on his back. Makoto spends several seconds staring at Rin’s feet, at his wriggling toes, and wonders how they’d look in red. He only comes back to reality at Haruka’s snort, and Rei throwing him amused looks.

“Don’t tease people, Rin-chan,” Nagisa singsongs. “Mako-chan is very, very sensitive. If you hurt Mako-chan, you are considered as the worst person ever alive.”

“Can we stop,” Makoto says helplessly, fighting the heat across his cheeks in vain as he tries to concentrate on the game. His room is silent for a second save for the sounds of his and Haruka’s character fighting, but it doesn’t even take ten minutes before his character lets out a horrifying screech and dies.

Everyone stares at the screen. There’s a slight smirk on Haruka’s face.

“Your character has a really great voice, Makoto-senpai,” Rei offers lamely. Nagisa bursts out laughing. Rin chucks a pillow at Haruka, who ducks just in time to avoid it, then turns to Makoto and says, “Go out with me, Makoto.”

“No,” Makoto answers patiently, the corners of his lips tugging up even as he bites back the ‘yes’.

“Nope, wrong answer.” Rin tells him, fingers tapping impatiently on his knees. “That should be a ‘yes’, you are now officially my boyfriend, and now I’m breaking up with you.”

“That was the fastest relationship ever,” Haruka murmurs, taking the controller from Makoto’s hand and pushes it towards Rei, who takes it reluctantly. The game begins anew, and Nagisa begins to sing an awful rendition of Minna no Uta as he does something on Haruka’s toenail with a toothpick.

Makoto rises to his feet. “I’m going down to the kitchen. Anyone wants anything?”

“Mackerel,” Haruka says quickly without even averting his eyes from the screen.

“I’d like some frozen yogurt, please,” Rei says, glancing at him with a smile. “Blueberry, preferably.”

“Popcorn!” Nagisa yells. “And that chocolate chip cookies that your mom made, Mako-chan, and hot chocolate with lots and lots of marshmallows, and ooh, Ren-chan offered me gummy bears earlier, do you still have them? And—“

Makoto sighs. “My house isn’t a restaurant,” he chides, but the grin tugging on his lips takes off all his disapproving tone. He wonders why he always fails to look stern when it comes to occasions like this. “And I only have two hands.”

“I’ll come down with you,” Rin hops off his bed, the shark plush still in his arm, skipping on his feet like he’s trying to wake them up several times, and then falls into step next to Makoto. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t attack him, Rin,” Haruka calls, just as Rei’s character makes a shrill shriek that signifies his death. Makoto chokes, but manages to hide it with a nervous chuckle, and Rin just casually flips Haruka off.

“Don’t mind him,” Makoto mutters, ducking his head so Rin can’t see the way his ears turn red. The door closes behind him and they start down the stairs towards the kitchen. “He’s just teasing you.”

Rin shrugs. Makoto can hear him shifting from one foot to the other, can hear him tossing the plush up and catching it again, over and over. “No, he’s teasing you. He told me about your girlfriend.”

Makoto stops dead and turns, spluttering. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

“That kitten would be hurt,” Rin tosses him the plush, smirking as he pushes past Makoto and into the kitchen. The lights are still on, but the rest of Makoto’s family have gone to bed already. Makoto sets the plush aside on the kitchen counter, relieved that it was just a joke. Relieved that Rin was still joking with him, at him, that even when it’s just the two of them, the atmosphere doesn’t turn awkward.

He watches Rin open the fridge and rummage around for several moments, before starting towards the cabinets to get some mugs. If Nagisa wants hot chocolate, he’ll get hot chocolate, because Makoto could do with some hot chocolate, himself. It’s a chilly winter night. “In my defense, the kitten is very cute, and I don’t think even you could resist her, Rin.”

“I don’t—shit,” there’s the sound of some things accidentally knocked over—bottles hitting bowls—and a water bottle rolled open, water sloshing out and onto the floor. Rin jerks back. “Shit, sorry, Makoto—“

Makoto laughs. “What is with you tonight, Rin, you seem restless.” He falls to Rin’s side, a dish towel at hand, reaching out to mop the mess. “It’s fine, I got it, could you get the bottle—“ but Rin’s snatched the bottle already, quickly turning and fastening the cap, setting it away. “Ah, that’s it. Thanks.”

“No, fuck, it’s—“ Rin’s voice trails off, and Makoto looks up to find Rin’s face less than three inches away from his. For a second, their eyes locked, and Makoto can’t swallow, doesn’t even dare to breathe.

And then Rin blinks, and the moment shatters. “Um,” Makoto begins, eloquently, ducking his head again and concentrates on mopping the puddle of water on the floor. He thinks he’s probably just making it worse, the way his hand just moves right to left instead of letting the dish towel soak the water. “Yeah, you were saying?”

Silence. Silence for a long time, and Makoto doesn’t dare to lift his head up.

But then Rin says. “Oh, to hell with this. So what about it, Makoto?”

He pauses, looking up, blinking owlishly. “What?”

“About what I said earlier. In—your room.” Rin shifts backwards, fingers still gripping the fridge door, and Makoto dimly realizes that his knuckles are white. Huh. “About. Going out. With me.”

And now Rin’s face is slowly turning an interesting shade of red.

“But,” Makoto says slowly. “You weren’t serious.” He watches, fascinated, as the shade of red reaches Rin’s neck.

Rin groans, looking mortified at himself. “I hate myself. I was, okay, I was serious, I just—I didn’t plan to—“ he stops, seemingly wanting to bite his own tongue for the way his words tumble out of his mouth, and finally settles with a quiet, “This wasn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

For some reason, Makoto wants to grin. Maybe because the implication of the situation has finally hit him. Wow, he’s slow on the uptake tonight. Or he’s always been, maybe, when it comes to this. “How is it supposed to go?”

“I don’t know,” Rin snaps, quickly defaulting to anger as his last defense. “Not in your kitchen, in the middle of the night, cleaning up my mess, that’s for sure? God, Makoto.” He huffs, and for a second Makoto thinks Rin is actually sulking. “I was planning to do it properly. Chocolates, at least. Or flowers—if you like them, I—“

“I don’t mind,” Makoto says, and he’s grinning like an idiot, and he thinks he’s probably blushing too, and he wants to reach out, to touch Rin and maybe kiss him, if he’s lucky. “I don’t mind. I like my kitchen.”

Rin peers up at him hesitantly, face still beet red. “Yeah?” He asks, tentative and unlike Rin at all, and Makoto wants to laugh, but that’s probably rude, that’s probably not what people do when they’re being asked out. “You’d go out with me?”

“Um,” Makoto tries and successfully tones down his grin, turns it into a wide smile instead. “If you—if you don’t mind me having a kitten girlfriend, yeah. I’d like to.”

Slowly, slowly, Rin’s face breaks into a grin, and that’s when Makoto finally realizes how much he’s missed seeing Rin beaming like that.

“Okay,” Rin says, laughter underlining his voice. “So, uh. Can I. Kiss you? Maybe.”

“Okay,” Makoto agrees.

They end up bumping noses pretty hard, start giggling like twelve-year-old girls, and it’s ridiculous, but Makoto doesn’t think he’s felt so happy since—maybe since that race where Rin came back to them—and when Rin tilts his head and presses their lips together, he thinks he might faint.

Rin smells a bit of chlorine and tastes like the spicy curry chips he’d been munching on back in Makoto’s room. Makoto thinks he can learn to like spicy things, this way.

**\-----o0o-----**

Rin tosses Makoto the controller again, moving aside to let Makoto takes his place, and settles down to let Nagisa continue with his toenails. Makoto slides down between him and Haruka, already choosing a character, when Rin threatens: “If you lost again, I’m seriously breaking up with you.”

Makoto laughs. “Please don’t.”

Everyone stops, dead silent, all turning to both Makoto and Rin, and then all hell breaks loose.

“Eeeeeeeehhhh!!!’ Nagisa screams, scattering his nail polish stuff literally everywhere, and Rei launches into a high-pitched ramble about okay, yes, they have expected this, calm down, Nagisa-kun, don’t yell, everyone else is asleep, but congratulations, Makoto-senpai and Rin-san, this is great news, I’m sure Gou would be thrilled, I mean not that we’ve been talking about how to hook you two up, sorry, please forget you ever heard that from me, but really, congratulations; and Haruka just puts his controller down and stares at them judgingly.

“Rin,” his voice actually sounds accusing. “I told you I want to see you confess to Makoto. Make it up to me.”

Rin flicks a water bottle cap at him. “Get back to your game and make sure I don’t break up with Makoto then, you smug bastard.”

“Did you guys kiss already?!” Nagisa shrills. “I demand pictures, I promised Gou-chan pictures!”

“Nagisa-kun!”

Haruka loses to Makoto in purpose. Makoto might have hugged him out of gratitude. Rin kicks at his thighs for that, but he’s laughing, too, so Makoto supposes it’s okay.

They should have more sleepovers like this. Definitely.

**\-----o0o-----**


	2. Down, Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As children, you gotta be dumb and do stupid, dangerous things that would make your parents want to kill you. All Rin is trying to do is convince Makoto about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this one's written for our dearest, amazing [Miaou Jones](http://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones)! She wanted High Speed! and shenanigans, I tried to deliver. Thank you for doing so much Miaou, this is one of the best White Day ever. :DDD

Rin looks down the downhill path, eyes squinting towards the end of the road where it dips down to the sandy beach. He can’t see it from where he stands, though. On his right side is the sparkling spring blue ocean, stretching endlessly and bleeding into the shore, sometimes dotted by the docks way down there. 

“This is not a good idea,” Makoto says from behind him. His bike is left resting against a tree on the back, and he’s looking down the same road Rin is now eyeing, but with less enthusiasm. 

Rin gives him a wide, rogue grin. “It’s going to be awesome.” 

“I’m not sure about this.” 

“Come on, Makoto, live up a little.” He claps Makoto on the back. “You’re the one who kept telling me to ride home with you.” 

“I didn’t mean it like this.” Makoto turns a half-pleading look at him, the wuss. “It’s dangerous, Rin. Let’s just go the usual way home.” 

“No,” Rin huffs, stubborn like he always is. “This is going to be so—“ what’s the word, the one he’d just learned yesterday when he watched the TV—ah. “Exhilarating.” 

Makoto scrunches up his face. “What’s that?” 

“Awesome,” Rin shrugs and pushes Makoto back towards the tree where his bike stands. “It’s the same. Come on, get your bike. You’re good with steering, right?" 

“What if I can’t balance us—“ 

“Of course you can.” Rin scowls. “I’m not that heavy. Besides, even if we can’t brake, it’s the beach down there. All sand. We’d just probably got scratches.” 

Makoto mutters something that suspiciously sounds like, “Why did I let you convince me to do this,” but he obediently gets on his bike. Rin climbs on the back, standing on the tires and grinning against the slap of the spring breeze on his face. They balance precariously on the top of the hill for a moment, and Makoto says, this time with a smaller voice that spells fear, “Rin, I don’t think we should do this.” 

Rin squeezes his shoulders. “Come on, Makoto. You trust me, right?” 

Makoto glances back at him, this time accusing. “That’s not fair.” 

“It’ll be a great memory,” Rin keeps his grip on Makoto’s shoulder tight. “Trust me, we’ll be just fine.” 

The older boy hesitates for a second, but Rin could tell the moment he makes up his mind, the way Makoto squares his shoulders, the way Makoto’s muscles, barely developed, tense under Rin’s grip, the way his eyes find the road before them, determined. 

“Ready?” 

Rin takes a deep, shaky breath, stomping on the slight fear clinging in his chest. They’d be fine. He’ll show Makoto something unforgettable. “Ready.” 

Makoto pushes, pedals three-four-five-six times, and then his feet let go. 

Gravity takes over, pulls the bike and the two kids on it down along the road winding down the hill towards the beach, gaining momentum even as the both of them shrieks gleefully. Rin laughs, lets the wind carries it away to the sea, pretends that they have wings and they’re about to take off flying. Makoto jerks the steer, following the curve along the road as they speed down, faster and faster, and the brunette is laughing along with Rin, his face pale but his grin stretched wide, and Rin’s heart pounds even harder. 

They lose balance just as the tires skid at the first patch of sand, and Makoto has a second to try braking before his bike wobbles completely and the two of them are thrown off the bike and onto the welcoming sand. The rough particles scrapped on Rin’s bare knees and elbows, setting the skin on fire as he rolls to a stop. There’s sand in his mouth and his hair and his pants and on his face, and he spits them out before pushing himself up, adrenaline rush keeping him sharp. 

“Makoto?” 

Someone is yelling from afar, sounding angry and panic, but Rin only has eyes for Makoto, flat on his back, covered in sand, blinking up at the blue sky. His bike was some metres off to the side, tires completely wrecked. 

Makoto pushes himself to sit up, eyes finding Rin’s, then starts laughing and doesn’t stop.

Rin’s grin splits his face into two. 

“My parents—“ Makoto chokes between laughter. “Are going to kill me.” 

“Told you it’s gonna be awesome!” Rin hollers. “We should do that again, some time!” 

“You are insane!” Makoto throws a shoe half-heartedly at Rin, but his eyes are dancing, and Rin dodges with a victorious crow. “You are a bad influence, Rin, oh my god—“ 

“You love it!” Rin grins from ear-to-ear, and for a second he forgets about his fear, forgets about Australia, forgets about the prospect of being alone in a foreign land. 

Makoto swallows back his laughter, looks at Rin, soft and fond like Rin has just shown him the world, and says, “Yeah.” 

Rin chucks the shoe back at Makoto, scrambles up and stumbling back down next to Makoto because his feet are a complete jelly. He laughs, Makoto laughs, probably at him, but he doesn’t even care. 

“I can’t get up.” 

“I can’t either.” 

“Let’s ask them to carry us home.” 

The adults comes around, chiding and yelling at how dangerous their stunt was, but Makoto’s arm locks around Rin’s, and that’s just fine, isn’t it? 

**\------o0o-----**


	3. The Art of Shaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto learns straight razor shaving from his Dad. Rin doesn't have anyone to teach him that, so he asks Makoto to do it for him instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this one's for [tawnyPort](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tawnyPort)! A little warning, though, I have not the slightest idea about shaving with straight razor and every guy I contacted told me they don't know jack-shit about it either and my brother actually told me to go to the barber. It didn't happen. So,uhh, the research I did for classic straight razor shaving in here might not be accurate, and I'm sorry in advance for that. I hope you'd enjoy this nonetheless!

Tachibana-san is, according to Makoto, a huge fan of the old-school wet-shaving routine.

“He doesn’t do it often,” Makoto says, his gaze meeting Rin’s curious ones on the mirror even as he lays the classic shaving kit he’d gotten from his father. “Usually weekends, or when he woke up too early, since it takes time. He taught me the basics—though still, it’s better if you leave the whole thing to professionals.” 

Rin eyes the scattered knick-knacks on the counter: shaving brushes, pre-shaves and colognes, two tubes of shaving cream, a safety razor with a butterfly head, a replaceable blade straight razor, several straight razors with different length and width of the blades, styptics and aftershave balms. Makoto is touching them one by one, now, like slowly familiarizing himself with them and the only thing Rin could think of is _fascinating_. 

“How long?” he begins, when Makoto drapes a hot towel over his face. They’ve both just showered—both still completely naked when Makoto pushes Rin onto the chair he set in front of the sink facing the mirror—and a hot towel isn’t really necessary considering Rin’s face is still damp, but Makoto, always the fretter, had insisted. “Since the last time you did this yourself, I mean.” 

Makoto hums. “Months, maybe, I don’t know. It’s been busy.” Club activities and part-time jobs and Haruka go unsaid, but Rin hears them hanging in the air anyway. “Are you sure you want me to do this, Rin? I’m probably a bit out of touch with these—“ 

Rin shrugs. “I’ve never done this kind of thing before,” he swallows the _no Dad to teach me these stuff_ part, throat constricting for a second, but he breathes through it. “It’s not like the seniors teach you wet shaving in Australia, Makoto.” 

A hand rests on his shoulder, reassuring and steady. “Okay, yeah. I’ll be very careful then.” 

The hot towel is lifted from Rin’s face, and when Makoto’s hands come back, it’s with pre-shave oil that he slathers liberally on the lower half of Rin’s face. It feels good—the steady pressure of Makoto’s hand on his skin, the easy slides of Makoto’s fingers down the sides of his face thanks to the pre-shave oil. Rin takes a moment to close his eyes and enjoys it fully, to the sound of Makoto’s amused chuckle. 

“What,” Rin deadpans. 

“Nothing. Just—that was my exact reaction the first time Dad taught me.” The pressure on Rin’s face leaves, and Rin opens his eyes just in time to watch Makoto’s hand comes back, this time slathering shaving cream properly. He follows Makoto’s movements in the mirror, watches intently at how hiss fingers flit under his jaw and down to his neck, pressing softly in all the right places. Then it leaves, and Rin has to make himself blink, and turns to where Makoto is now holding the shaving brush and lather. The brunette wiggles the brush on his hand, smiling. “It’s a badger brush. Eurasian—one of Dad’s most prized ones.” 

Rin snorts. “You sure you’re going to use that?” 

“This is my favorite, actually,” Makoto reaches out, palms framing Rin’s jaw. “It feels cool and the lather would be thicker.” 

It does. It actually feels even better than when Makoto applies the oil and cream—the sensation of the brush making its path down his jaw, chin, and then neck, the thick lathers that runs slowly down the side of his face—it’s something he could indulge in, Rin thinks. Especially when it’s Makoto, who knows exactly how and where to touch, fingers firm but gentle, keeping Rin’s head in place as he works. 

And then, finally, Makoto takes up the straight razor, eyes finding Rin’s stare in the mirror, and asks, “Ready?” 

Rin just closes his eyes as an answer. 

It’s a slow going—Makoto wasn’t being humble when he said he was probably out of touch with these things. He moves too carefully; fingers pulling and stretching Rin’s skin tight as the blade scratches, taking away stubbles and lathers. Makoto is tense; fingers not as steady as they were when he did the preparation, sometimes pressing too hard. At one point, Rin isn’t sure he could hear Makoto breathing, and wonders if Makoto holds his breath with every stroke of the blade. 

It’s probably why the blade nicks his cheek at one point. 

His head jerks instinctively, a hiss of pain coming out sharply from his mouth, and Makoto blurts out, “Shit!” and wow, isn’t that the surprise of the day. Rin opens one eye, raising an eyebrow, because Makoto rarely swears, and finds apologetic eyes looking down at him. 

“Sorry, sorry, I pressed to hard,” he sounds embarrassed, snatching up tissues from the counter to dab on the blood now dotting the tiny wound. “I told you I’m more or less out of touch, I’m really sorry Rin, I wasn’t sure—“ 

“Oi,” Rin says, sharp, because that’s the only way you’d get to Makoto when he’s like this. “It doesn’t even hurt that bad, you know that.” 

Makoto pauses, stares at him for a long time, and finally says, “You’re bleeding.” 

“Yeah, thanks for the news,” Rin rolls his eyes, reaching out with one hand to pinch at Makoto’s ass. The yelp he makes is wonderful. “Come on, Makoto. Finish it.” 

“Improper,” Makoto complains petulantly, and Rin grins roguely, because he looks more relaxed now.  “Do you have to—Rin!” he swats at Rin’s hand when it makes another grab at his ass, laughing. “Stop it!” 

“I’m appreciating a perfectly fine piece of ass,” Rin tells him. “Be grateful, Makoto.” 

“Ha, ha.” Makoto replies dryly, fingers now finding their way back to Rin’s face, the straight razor back in hand. “Hold still—I’m almost done.” 

He moves faster this time, more sure and relaxed, his fingers pressing against Rin’s skin in just the right pressure, trailing down a path under his jaw, passing the point where Rin’s pulse beats steady under his fingertips, and Rin swallows, because it feels too intimate, somehow, in this quiet bathroom where Makoto holds his breath in concentration, much like when Makoto splays his hand on Rin’s chest and maps the muscles there, much like when they breathe the same air, much like when he’s pressed flush against Makoto’s chest, with no space between them left to move, and Rin doesn’t understand why because _it’s just shaving_. 

When the razor finally takes away the last patch of stubble and lather, and Makoto lets go of the straight razor in favor of framing Rin’s face with his hands and pressing their foreheads together, Rin thinks they should probably make this a habit. It’s relaxing, it’s nice—and Makoto seems to enjoy it, when he isn’t tensing too much. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, hands coming up and fingers sliding into Makoto’s hair. The taller boy noses the accidental nick on his cheek, presses his lips on it softly, and moves to nuzzle Rin’s jaw. Rin breathes in the smell of Makoto’s shampoo, doesn’t protest when he feels Makoto’s hand skitters down and rests on his thigh, until Makoto laughs. 

“Rin,” he turns his head, and Rin finds amused green eyes looking up at him. “You’re hard.” 

Rin hates the heat climbing up his face. “Shut up.” 

“It’s just shaving,” Makoto says, but his laughter is underlined by what sounds like curiosity. “You liked it that much?”

“No, shut up, you nicked me. I didn’t. I bled, Makoto, god.” Rin swats at Makoto’s hand, wriggles to try and push the taller boy away. “I’m going to finish this myself, it’s just aftershave and stuff, right—“ 

Makoto laughs. “You liked it. Come on, Rin, let me finish.” 

“No, nope. No, get away.” Rin turns accusing eyes at him. “I _bled_ , I don’t trust you with applying aftershave—“ 

Something flashes in Makoto’s eyes as he brings their faces closer. “I’ll finish all of it. All of you.” 

Rin swallows. 

“Okay,” he agrees, and doesn’t protest when Makoto chooses to drop onto his knees instead of grabbing the aftershave cares. 

**\-----o0o-----**


	4. How to Spend A Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're miles away from Iwatobi when an incident occurs. They could only find comfort in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is for Airi a.k.a [maokatsu](http://maokatsu.dreamwidth.org/)! :D
> 
> You may read this as MakoRinHaru OT3 if you want, though I rather intended it to be gen, ahahaha. itried.jpg okaay~~

Sometimes, Rin’s life decides to take a different turn and makes him pay for being an ass in his high school years. 

This time, it comes in the form of his mother’s call in the middle of the night, all the way from Iwatobi, somber and anxious and worried, “Rin, Gou’s been in an accident.” 

For a second, his whole life turns into an inexplicable tableau of chaos. He’s gripping his phone too hard, knuckles white, breath coming faster and faster. “What? What accident? Is she okay?” 

“There was a fire at school.” He hears a distinct murmur somewhere in the background, and realizes that his mom is still in the hospital. That makes something in his stomach bottoms out, for some reason. “Her whole class was in the chemistry lab, and they couldn’t open the door. She’s alright, just some smoke inhalation, the fire brigade came very quickly, but the doctor wants her to stay in the hospital for a few days just to be safe.” 

“I’m coming home,” Rin says, his mind already running all the possibilities of how to get to Tottori. “Tonight. I can probably still catch the night bus, there should be one that leaves in about three hours, and I’ll get off at Nagoya and take the plane from there—“ 

“No, Rin, you can’t, you have a race the day after tomorrow. Gou’s perfectly alright, I’m calling to tell you not to worry about it—“ 

“Mom, if she’s in the hospital, she’s not alright!” He bursts out, voice shaking, panic and fear clawing their way up to his throat. It’s like his father all over again, he realizes—if he doesn’t get there on time, what would happen if Gou just slips away, without him even being there to say goodbye, or kiss her forehead for the last time. “I’m going home. I’ll skip on the race, is no big deal—“ 

“Matsuoka Rin,” and that’s her mother’s stern tone, the one that would always makes him stop dead in his track, stop and truly listen, no matter what. “I’m with her in the hospital. She’s just gone to sleep, and she’s okay, she was still yelling at Mikoshiba-san—“ 

Rin backpedals. “Why is Mikoshiba-san there—“ 

“Because he’s her boyfriend, and I’m not going to be that evil mother who keeps him from seeing her.” Rin wants to protest, but her mother’s voice has taken a soft, fond tone. Fuck. “Don’t worry your head off, boy, your sister is alright. I’m calling to tell you that she’s alright, rather than wait for some of your friends to call and freak you out before they could explain properly what is happening.” A pause, and then his mother’s voice drifts away, like she’s talking off the phone. “Yes, Nagisa-kun, I’m talking to Rin. Yes, of course you may stay, if it’s alright with your parents, too.” 

So Nagisa is there. If Nagisa is there, Rei probably is, too. Except if Rei had also been in the fire, and—no. If that’s the case, he’d probably heard first from Nagisa, not his mother. Still, that doesn’t stop him from asking, “Are the rest—are they okay, too?” 

“Nagisa-kun and Rei-kun?” His mother’s tone take a rather amused tone. “Yes, they had gym out in the field. Good thing the fire brigade came quick, I heard Nagisa-kun was about to run into the building to get your sister out.” 

Rin sweeps one hand across his face. God, he has such idiotic friends. “What an idiot.”

 “Your friends are great.” His mother tells him. “Now don’t worry about us, and go back to sleep.” 

**\-----o0o-----**

Even after his mother’s stern order to not worry and go back to sleep, Rin finds himself standing in front of Haruka’s apartment fifteen minutes later, staring at the wooden door, debating whether to knock or call. 

He can’t just sleep—not when his heart is still hammering at the news of the accident. He could’ve gone to Makoto’s, except the brunette is in a class trip to Fukuoka, and Rin is really not in the mood to stay in his apartment alone. So he raises a hand, and knocks. 

No answer. He frowns, fishes out his phone and dials Haruka’s number. Which is kind of a vain effort, considering he knows that Haruka leaves his phone in places he never remembers. So he knocks again—twice, thrice, until he hears sounds from the other side of the door, and waits. 

The door opens, revealing Haruka still dressed in his casual attire when he works late, looking both tired and surprised to see Rin, but doesn’t say anything. 

Rin shrugs. “Mind if I crash here tonight?” 

Haruka says, “I thought you went home.” 

“I did.” He shifts from one foot to the other, anxious. “My mom called. Said there’s an accident in Iwatobi.” 

He watches Haruka’s eyes go wide. “What?” 

“There was a fire.” He pauses, and Haruka moves aside, gesturing him to come in. Rin steps in, lets the door close behind him, and follows Haruka to the living room. He throws himself onto the couch, watches Haruka goes into the kitchen to get some water. “They’re fine—Nagisa and Rei. They had gym outside.” 

The tension on Haruka’s shoulders visibly peters off. Rin waits for a beat, and adds, “Gou inhaled too much smoke, or something. They’re keeping her in the hospital.” 

Haruka turns, a flash of worried look in his eyes. “Is she alright?” 

“Mom said she was yelling at Mikoshiba-san, so I assume she’s fine enough.” Rin shrugs. But the tips of his fingers are still shaking. Haruka returns the bottle of water into the fridge and crosses the kitchen to turn on the coffeemaker. When he gets back to the living room, his hands are holding two mugs of black coffee that Rin accepts with a grateful sigh. 

“Thanks for coming,” Haruka tells him, quiet like he always is. The corner of Rin’s lips tug upwards, because that should be his line, but his friends seem to always know what to say to him. He resents that a little, somehow—Matsuoka Rin shouldn’t be so predictable, shouldn’t look too vulnerable. 

There’s no hiding stuff from his best friends, it seems. 

The coffee is strong, enough for Rin to cringe a little, the last of sleep tugging on his eyes vanishing in an instant. Haruka’s disappeared into his studio, coming out with his box of stationeries and a stack of papers, settling down on the floor and starting his work again on the coffee table. Rin watches him draw lines and lines, turning what looks like scribbles into sketches inside each of the panels. 

“When’s your deadline?” Rin asks, because he doesn’t want to think about Iwatobi, and Haruka’s presence is still not enough to chase away the fear. 

“This weekend,” Haruka replies almost absently, eyes never leaving his drawings. “Sensei wants this done tomorrow evening.” 

“That’s a lot.” Rin says, and that’s when his phone buzzes in his pocket. The two of them pause, Rin a bit more tensed than Haruka’s, because what if it’s from his mother, what if Gou is not alright, what if— 

Haruka looks at him. “Rin. Answer that.” 

Rin does, without looking at the screen. 

“Rin?” and there’s that sharp relief, because it’s Makoto, and Rin thinks he might have made an embarrassing sound. “Hey. Are you home?” 

“No,” Rin glances at Haru, who rises to his feet and pads over to Rin, settling down next to him, shoulders pressed, like he’s trying to listen in on his and Makoto’s conversation. “I’m at Haru’s.” 

“Oh, that’s good. Is Haru there?”

“Here,” Haruka says. Rin lowers his phone, switches to speaker. Makoto’s voice crackles when he next speaks: “That’s good, you guys are together. I called Rin first because Rei told me about Gou. Are you two okay?” 

“Rin’s shaking,” Haruka reports. Rin makes an undignified sound. “I am not!” 

Makoto’s chuckle drifts out, breaking in the middle, and Rin silently curses the reception. “I’m glad,” he says, and how ridiculous is it that Rin can actually hear him smile. “Rei called just now.  He told me things in detail.” 

Haruka is silent. Rin makes a nonchalant sound. “It doesn’t matter. They’re all fine.” 

“The fire was caused by an explosion from the toilets in second floor,” Makoto begins. Of course he’d seen through Rin’s nonchalant façade even through the phone, what the fuck. “They’re still not sure what caused the explosion, but the fire goes straight up to the third floor, right into the chemistry lab.” 

“Way to get more fuel,” Rin murmurs, irrationally resenting whoever it is that designs Iwatobi High building and placing the chemistry lab right above the toilets. Or maybe he’s angry at the teachers who scheduled Gou’s class to have chemistry class today, whatever.

Haruka knocks his head gently against Rin, and tells Makoto, “Continue.”

So Makoto does. They spend about fifteen minutes listening to Makoto recounting all the things he’s gotten out of Rei. It isn’t too bad, Rin thinks when Makoto finishes, Gou and her friends weren’t trapped too long inside the lab, and while smoke inhalation could be bad, the students had anticipated it by covering their mouths and noses with wet clothes. None of them was unconscious when the fire brigade got to them, and even Gou walked to the ambulance with Nagisa and Rei. 

It makes him feel better about the whole thing. 

Haruka’s leaning snug against his side when Makoto ends his story with a quiet, “So, yeah, there’s nothing to worry about.” 

Rin exhales. “Thanks, Makoto.” 

“Do you guys want me home sooner?” Makoto offers, his kind tone apparent even with the cracky reception. “I’m sure I can say something to my lecturers. No one would mind. We can go home to Iwatobi together, after Rin’s race.” There’s a smile in his voice now. “If I go home tomorrow, I can watch your race, Rin.” 

It’s a tempting suggestion, if it isn’t for the fact that Rin knows Makoto had been looking forward to his class trip. But the offer makes the corners of his lips tug up anyway, because it’s sweet and thoughtful, and just so Makoto. “No, it’s okay. I won’t be going home.” 

“I have deadlines, too.” Haruka adds, suppressing a yawn. He looks tired; Rin wonders how many hours Haruka’s spent bent on his drawing desk, finishing his work.

 “Okay,” Makoto tells them easily, pauses, and there’s the slightest tone of hesitance when he begins again, “You know what, I’m not too sleepy myself—“ 

“Don’t hang up,” Haruka tells Makoto, rising to his feet again and stretches, before padding back to where his work is waiting. “I’m working.” 

“I’m on the couch, but I’m not sleepy either,” Rin grumbles. “Fucking coffee.” 

Haruka slants him a warning look, but the corner of his mouth is tugging upwards a little. Rin chucks the couch pillow at him. 

Makoto chuckles, voice crackling from the phone. “Okay,” he says, light and easy, and suddenly Rin notices that he’s no longer shaking. He’s wide awake, sure, but the fear consistently nagging on the back of his mind has ceased to exist. He burrows down onto the couch further, cradling his mug of coffee, watching Haruka return to his sketches, and asks, “How is Fukuoka, Makoto?” 

“Bring me mackerel,” Haruka calls absentmindedly. 

Makoto laughs. “Mackerel isn’t even Fukuoka’s specialty, Haru,” and then he begins to tell the course of his class trip since leaving Tokyo to Fukuoka. Rin listens, and he’s sure Haruka does too, even if he doesn’t look like it. 

Rin thinks he understands a little now, when people say that distance shouldn’t matter. 

Because it really shouldn’t. 

**\-----o0o-----**


	5. Curiosity Doesn't Kill A Cat (Sei is not A Cat Anyway)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seijuurou's got this morbid curiosity about Makoto and Rin's sex life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the ever-lovely [Risotto](http://archiveofourown.org/users/risotto/pseuds/risotto) who's been spoiling me rotten in this fandom.
> 
> I'm sorry that this SeiMakoRin tease that is more MakoRin is the best I could do? It nearly got out of hands and I chickened out. =))

It isn’t the first time Seijuurou crashes on Rin and Makoto’s place after a fight with Gou. 

A fight which Rin is absolutely sure Gou wins, anyway. Seijuurou can’t argue with Gou to save his life. But anyway, it’s still a fight that leads to Gou kicking Seijuurou out of the house for an indefinite amount of time (three hours, usually, half a day if Gou is extremely pissed), and it’s been almost two hours since Seijuurou showed up on their door, grinning sheepishly at them, still boisterous even when he’s only clad in a shirt and shorts in the middle of winter. 

Alright, Rin has to admit he’s more than a bit impressed. 

Makoto, who had opened the door, hadn’t even batted an eyelash. He just shook his head and let Seijuurou in. And so, like that, Rin’s former captain has been staying in their living room for almost two hours, curling under the kotatsu, marathoning Rin’s collection of swimming records, yelling with (and at) Rin over the races, and eating mikan. 

Rin doesn’t really mind. It’s a slow winter day—neither he or Makoto has anything to do, and it’s not like they’re going to let Seijuurou stand outside in the freezing winter with only his shirt and shorts and no money or car keys. Gou’s always been thorough whenever she kicks Seijuurou out, but only because she knows Seijuurou would just crash at Rin and Makoto’s anyway. 

They’re watching one of Phelps’ old race recordings now. Makoto’s long given up on trying to watch—he might love swimming, but he still can’t keep up with the way Rin (and Rei, when he comes over) marathons those videos over and over again. He’s burrowing under the kotatsu now, his head the only part of his body popping out of the kotatsu, cushioned by Rin’s thighs. He’s not asleep, not yet, Rin could still feel him shift around, trying to curl up even more to preserve warmth, rustling the blankets. 

Rin’s about to comment on Phelps’ dive when Seijuurou suddenly says, “Rin, aren’t you hard?” 

Rin stares at him for a long time, unable to comprehend the very question. It’s Makoto’s lazy, “huh?” that snaps him back into focus, and only then did he replies, rather blankly, “What the fuck.” 

Seijuurou grins. “It’s Makoto’s face. Like, it’s really close to your crotch. If I were you and Makoto’s Gou, I’d get hard in an instant.” 

Makoto makes a strangled yelp, snapping up so sudden that his head hits the edge of kotatsu. Rin has the sudden urge to flip the kotatsu and throw it at Seijuurou, but he isn’t sure whether it’s because he’s skirting the topic of Rin and Makoto’s sex life, or if it’s because he’s implying that he and Gou have a sex life. Which is an absolute given, because they’re married, but Rin doesn’t ever think about his sister having sex with anyone, and he’d really like to keep it that way. 

“Again,” Rin repeats, eloquently. “What the fuck.” 

“Hey, we’re all men here, no need to get shy!” Seijuurou waves a hand, then plucks off another mikan from the small fruit bowl on the kotatsu. Rin follows Seijuurou’s fingers peeling the skin, tries to focus on anything else rather than the sudden desire to murder somebody. “’Sides, I’ve caught you guys in the act at least five times, and it’s not like I don’t know shit about homosexuals.” 

Makoto resurfaces from the tangle of blankets, one hand touching the side of his head, hissing. Almost automatically, Rin reaches down to slip his fingers into Makoto’s hair, feeling the head until he finds a small bump, and swipes his thumb against it.

 “What a question,” Makoto murmurs, settling back on Rin’s thighs. Rin tears his eyes away from Seijuurou and fixes them on the TV screen, determinedly ignoring Seijuurou’s prompting noises. 

“Well? Come on, Rin, it’s an easy question. Are you or are you not hard?” 

When it comes to things like these, Rin gives up very easily. He throws his hands up, leaning back to glare daggers at Seijuurou. He resents that grin very, very much right now. “No, I am not! Goddammit, Seijuurou, what’s it got to do with you, anyway?” 

“Oh, come on, I was curious!” Seijuurou protests, even as he flicks a piece of skin towards the trash bin. It bounces on the edge and doesn’t go in, but nobody cares. “As I was saying, if I had Gou’s face so close to my junk, I’d be—“ 

Rin covers his ears in a last desperate attempt to escape the conversation. “Fuck, I do not want to hear that.” 

Makoto looks up at him with pity. So much for partners for life, the older man doesn’t even do anything at a time like this. Rin hates everyone in his life sometimes. 

“Are homosexuals different?” Seijuurou continues, and the fact that he looks genuinely curious kind of scares Rin a little bit. “Like, you guys don’t get hard so easily, or what?” 

“We get hard all the same, okay,” Rin snaps, thoroughly irritated. “I wasn’t thinking about Makoto’s face so close to my crotch, it’s not like he’s blowing me or something, of course I wasn’t—fuck, why am I talking at all?” He buries his face into the surface of kotatsu. 

“Ah,” Makoto says from somewhere under Rin’s belly, in a rather surprised tone, and somewhat amazed. And interest, there’s a definite interest in his tone. “Just because you thought about it, Rin? Even if it was just a flitting thought?” 

“Shut it,” Rin hisses, but Seijuurou doesn’t disappoint anyone. He leans forward, eyes wide and curious, and whispers, “What, did you just get hard?” 

“Fuck you, Seijuurou.”

“Can’t, I’ve got Gou,” Seijuurou replies lightly, but the curiosity in his eyes still stay. He cranes his neck, like he’s trying to see Makoto even though said brunette is completely hidden by Rin’s torso leaning against the kotatsu. “Oi, Makoto, personal question, man to man? Former captain to former captain?” 

To Rin’s horror, Makoto actually answers, “Yeah?” 

“Yours is bigger than Rin’s, right?” 

“Um,” Makoto begins, and Rin jams an elbow against Makoto’s forehead painfully. Makoto yelps, and Rin has a second to congratulate himself before Makoto retaliates in the most unforgivable way possible: he mouths on Rin’s half-hard dick. 

Rin jerks back, face flushing red to his ears in an instant, looking down with mortified eyes. “Makoto!” 

“That hurts,” Makoto frowns at him, and then raises his voice. “That’s undisclosed information, Seijuurou.” 

“He’s a bad influence on you,” Rin grumbles. Makoto looks up at him with a sweet, sweet smile, and Rin can practically hear the words hanging in the air, _no Rin, you’re a bad influence on me_. 

Well, to be fair, Makoto’s had his share of being teased mercilessly by Rin in front of their friends. He supposes this is some sort of revenge. 

“I’m just going to assume that’s a confirmation to my question,” Seijuurou nods, so sure of himself the way he always is. “Next question, then.” 

“Go ahead,” Makoto answers, at the same time Rin screeches and strangles, “There’s no _next question,_ what the hell!” 

“I know you switch, Haru told me you switch,” Seijuurou blunders on, and Rin grudgingly thinks that Seijuurou’s never had any sense of privacy, fuck, he’d probably seen all Samezuka boys’ dicks or something. “Consider this a what-if question: do you guys get turned on by straight porn?” 

“Why,” Rin snits, “are you so focused on finding out about our sex life anyway, it’s not like you don’t have one.” 

Makoto pinches the side of his tummy. Rin glares down on him. “Be nice now, Rin.” 

“Why are you on his side?!” 

“Well, we’re all guys, and it’s not like he hasn’t walked in on us—“ 

“Who are you and what have you done to my Makoto?” 

Seijuurou barks a boisterous laugh, endlessly amused. “Wow, Rin, now that’s sweet.” 

“He’s sweet all the time,” Makoto tells him. “Rin just never admits it.” 

Rin groans. “I haven’t done anything to deserve this, fuck.” 

“So, straight porn, yes or no?” Seijuurou presses. 

“We don’t watch porn,” Makoto says, fingers now smoothing over the spot where he’d pinched Rin as if to soothe the sting. Not that Rin needs that—there’s another sting right now, altogether different, coming from Seijuurou, and it is called privacy breach. “Never needs it. Rin’s never ran out of ideas anyway.” 

“You know,” Rin cuts in, voice dripping with venom. “Instead of just asking, we can actually show you how it works. Wouldn’t want to keep you guessing.” 

Another pinch on the side of his belly. Rin just swats Makoto’s hand. Seijuurou, on the other hand, looks like he’s seriously considering the idea, and for a second, Rin thinks he’s just dug his own grave. 

Then Seijuurou lets out a sigh. “Aw, but I don’t have my phone with me. Gou would be so mad if I watch by myself.” 

Rin splutters. “Are you implying that you’ve—that my sister—you guys— _voyeurism_?!“ 

“Rin,” there’s a definite frown in Makoto’s voice now. “To each their kink, don’t judge.” 

“I’m not—what the fuck, I never needed that information!” 

“We watch porn together,” Seijuurou grins unabashedly. “Sometimes gay porn. I consider it as sex education.” 

“Oh, god, shut the fuck up,” and that’s it, that’s more than enough, Rin is not dealing with this. Not when Seijuurou and Makoto seem to be content to team up against him. He snatches his phone, punches Gou’s number, and doesn’t even let his sister say anything when she picks up. “Gou, it’s me. Get your husband off my place, I am not dealing with him right now. Not ever. He’s banned from my place.” 

Gou is silent for a moment. _“Did Makoto-san agree to this?”_  

“What does that have to do with anything?”

_“That’s not just your place, it’s Makoto-san’s too.”_  

“Fuck Makoto,” and oh, that is such a wrong thing to say, because Makoto’s chuckling from down there, and he’s nuzzling against Rin’s crotch now. His face burns. “Just get your husband—“ 

_“If you guys are trying to kick Sei out because you’re going to have sex, just let him watch and record it for me. Tell him not to get the heads part, I don’t want to be reminded that it’s you and Makoto-san. I just want all the muscles.”_  

“What?! Gou--!” 

The line cuts off. Rin lowers the phone to the sound of Seijuurou laughing like there’s no tomorrow, and Makoto’s whole body shaking in an attempt to cover his own laughter. 

What the fuck is his life, Rin wonders. 

“Okay, okay, so give me this last one, you guys,” Seijuurou says, voice still thick with laughter. “What kind of guys turn you on? Seriously, last one.” 

Rin glares at him, and decides that okay, he’s completely done, see if he cares. So he throws his hands up, and then points dead at Seijuurou. 

Seijuurou’s eyebrows rises high. 

“Yeah, agree,” Makoto says, muffled by Rin’s shirt now that his face is mashed against Rin’s stomach. 

“Muscles. Very nice ass.” Rin rattles, because really, it’s not like he fucking cares about what Seijuurou thinks. “Redheads are hot. Also, your abs. My sister’s got a real good taste, I’ll have you know.” 

“Redheads are hot,” Makoto agrees. 

Seijuurou breaks into a grin, boisterous laugh echoing in their small apartment. “Hah! If I hadn’t known better, it sounds like you guys are inviting me to a threesome, hahahaha!” 

Rin looks down as Makoto tugs on his shirt, thoughtful. 

“Well,” Makoto says, a bit hesitantly. “Actually.” 

“Gou might mind,” Rin murmurs. “But she might not, if you bring home a recording of it. She’s adventurous, right?” 

“Just for fun!” Makoto adds quickly, finally shifting to sit up, and exchanges a smile with Rin, before turning their eyes on Seijuurou. 

It’s interesting, for once, to see that shade of red crawls on Seijuurou’s face. 

**\-----o0o-----**


	6. Importance of Glasses-Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Makoto and Rei, this is a Big Deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Patricia Selina. Happy White Day!

Makoto holds up a rimless glasses this time, and turns to Rei. “How about this?” 

Rei eyes the object critically, the way he would when he watch their swimming tapes or when he’s trying to choose which brand of lube he’s going to buy, despite Nagisa nagging him to just pick whichever because his family would be home very soon, and he’d like to get to the action before his sisters are actually home, _Rei-chan_ _come on_. 

Not that Makoto tails them on their run to the drug store. It just happens that one time, he and Rin ran out of condoms and were also in the same drug store, buying _things_. Not that Makoto should be thinking about that right now, anyway. 

 Glasses-shopping, obviously, is something that Rei takes very seriously. 

“No, it’s too—“ Rei wrinkles his nose. “Old-fashioned for you, Makoto-senpai.” 

“I don’t mind old-fashioned,” Makoto says, but he puts the glasses back in its case and gives it back to the sales girl. “as long as they’re comfortable—“ 

“Rin-san once said that he finds you wearing glasses as something very—“ Rei pauses, visibly struggling to find a word to rephrase what Rin must have told him. “Desirable.” 

“Okay,” Makoto turns serious, because well, now glasses-shopping is twice more important. “What do you suggest?” 

“I don’t think oval-shaped lenses suits you very well,” Rei says, eyes turning back to the display as his fingers trail on the glass surface. “Square ones, probably. With thin frames, so they wouldn’t crowd your face.” Rei turns to him, and tells him with the same seriousness that he uses when he’s talking about choosing speedos. “It’s also important to consider whether or not said glasses would be in the way when you’re—um. Kissing.” 

Makoto feels heat creeping up his face. “Uh. Yeah, that’s—yeah.” 

“What about this one?” Rei taps the glass display, indicating the glasses displayed under, and the sales girl pulls it out, presenting them with a square-lensed, thin-framed glasses. In orange. “One of the psychological effects the color orange has on people is tthat it focuses our minds in physical comfort and sensuality, and it stimulates your mind—“ 

Makoto frowns. “No, no, I look bad in orange. I like this one, though. Is there one in red?” 

Rei brightens.”That’s brilliant, Makoto-senpai! Rin-san would definitely be all over that?” 

Makoto smiles, if a bit sheepish. “You think so?” 

“Definitely!” And the sales girl comes back, this time pushing a red-colored frame glasses at them, and both Makoto and Rei frown at the same time. 

“No,” Rei dismisses. “This is not the right shade of red.” 

“The frames are thicker.” Makoto adds. “I like the black accent on the side, though. That’s elegant.” 

“Why don’t you try them first,” the sales girl grumbles, but dutifully puts the glasses back into its case and steels herself to stay another hour with the two customers. 

**\------o0o-----**


	7. Here, Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're on their third year of high school. Study sessions are in order, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this wasn't written for the Iwatobi White Day, but I'm just going to put this here for archive convenience reason. Written for [mystearika](http://mystearika.tumblr.com/)'s birthday on 2013, she asked for something with Makoto+Rin+Haruka, this is what I came up with.

It starts with another phone call from Makoto.

“Please Rin,” is how he pleads. “At this rate, Ama-chan wouldn’t let Haru to swim in the Regional Swim Meet. I tried my best, we even got some help from Rei, but Haru said he just couldn’t get it, and Rin, _you’re the only one we can count on_.” 

Rin groans. “I had plans, Makoto. Perfectly interesting plans to do on Saturday evening.” 

“Please?” 

“I demand my favorite snacks.” He pauses, reconsiders the deal, and adds, “also, in return, you’re going to teach me math.” 

 **\-----o0o-----**  

The second one happens a week after the mid-semester exams. This time it’s Haruka who calls when he’s about to turn in for the night. He turns off the lights anyway because Nitori looks like he could fall asleep standing, and he doesn’t want to deprive his junior of what precious sleep they could get. The weeks before exams had been hell on earth. 

“Are you free on Sunday?” Haruka says even before Rin could get anymore than _yeah_ into the phone. He rolls his eyes, tries to remember what he’s planned on Sunday and realizes he doesn’t really have much. 

“It’s my turn to clean the dorm bathroom.” 

“Do it in the morning and come over in the afternoon?” 

“I was planning to sleep the day away.” 

“I won’t cook mackerels,” Haruka says quickly, and that makes the corners of Rin’s mouth twitch upwards a little. “Also, Makoto’s bringing buckets of ice cream.” 

“Buckets,” Rin repeats, nodding to himself, voice dripping with approval. “Dinner’s on you.”

“It’s a date then,” Haruka replies, a hint of smile in his voice, and the call ends. 

 **\-----o0o-----**  

The third one is four days after, and it’s both Makoto and Haruka who drags him over to the nearest burger place from Samezuka Academy. They end up cramming into the table for four on the furthest left corner, books and papers spread on the table amongst their food, and Rin has to be extra careful not to accidentally elbow Haruka’s milkshake off the table. 

“Where’s my eraser?” Makoto eyes the table mournfully, seemingly about to give up after looking for said eraser amidst the chaos that is their table in vain. Rin and Haruka both look up from Haruka’s English homework, stares at the table mutely for a moment, and then Rin remembers that the eraser in question is the one he’s absently playing with under the table. He returns it with a grin, and Makoto gives him an exasperated head shake. 

“I want to set this on fire,” Haruka murmurs, voice crystal clear in Rin’s ears amidst the white noise of the burger place—the loud gossiping guys on the next table, the shouts for orders behind the counter, some complaining customers, the tinkling sound of the bell that signals the arrival of new customers. Makoto makes a humming noise of heartfelt agreement, eraser scratching the surface of his papers. 

Rin crosses his arms. “You’re the one who dragged me off campus to teach you English. _**I**_ should be the one complaining.” He reaches out and steals some of Haruka’s fries. “We went over this material four days ago. Not my fault you both are thickheaded when it comes to English.” 

“Grammar is hard,” Haruka says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Grammar shouldn’t exist.” 

“Your pen stopped moving, Haru,” Rin warns, and Haruka bends his head back on his book. Rin watches him finish a sentence, takes the eraser from where it lies next to Makoto’s wrist and lightly tosses it to the dark-haired boy. “That’s not how you spell _incongruent_. Consult your dictionary.” 

Haruka gives him a stinking eye, but doesn’t say anything when he opens the pocket dictionary he’s brought along. Rin leans forward to peer at Makoto’s essay, taking in the last five sentences Makoto’s written, and frowns. 

Makoto stops writing almost instantly. “You’re frowning,” he says, and Rin kind of wants to laugh at the slight dread in his voice. 

“Nah, it’s just,” Rin shrugs, leaning back into his seat. “They’re grammatically correct, but your sentences are so awkward.” 

“You should write us one, it’d be faster,” Haruka says. Rin throws fries at him. 

 **\-----o0o-----**  

Sometimes, he can’t make it. 

“I promised Nitori I’d go look for new shoes with him this Saturday,” he says, gesturing nonchalantly to the air as he shoves his things into his bag, trying to hide the slight disappointment underlining his voice. “Try to survive without me for one day, okay.” 

Haruka stares at him blandly, but Makoto is already donning his puppy face. Which is ridiculous—a teenager with a body the size of an orca like Makoto shouldn’t look good doing it. So Rin points straight at him and says, “stop that.” 

Makoto holds up his hands, eyes dancing with laughter. “Not doing anything.” 

“You are transparent, Makoto. So very transparent.” Rin shakes his head, but lets the corners of his mouth twitch upwards anyway. “Okay, I’m going back.” 

“We’ll call you in the middle of the night if we have any questions,” Haruka says solemnly. Makoto laughs. Rin chucks a pen his way, but laughter is tumbling out of his lips in such obvious affection.

 “I’m turning off my phone,” he calls back when he steps out of Haru’s house. Both Makoto and Haruka sends him off with smiles. 

He doesn’t turn off his phone. They don’t call either, but at two in the morning, Rin gets two emails with the same attachment: a picture of the finished homework. 

**\-----o0o-----**

Before he knows it, their study dates have become a routine. 

They’d meet at least thrice a week—sometimes at Haruka’s, more often at Makoto’s, or at the nearest burger place when their swimming clubs have joint practice.  English isn’t the only subject they’d study together; sometimes it’s Rin who desperately needs help with math or history, or sometimes the three of them would despair over Japanese Literature together. Sometimes they end up not studying at all, merely throwing back light insults and laughter and random stories between bites of food and ice cream.

It’s nice. It feels normal. And Rin wonders since when these stupid study dates have become the highlight of his week; something he’s looking forward to, something that makes him smile when he remembers his schedule for the week. 

Haruka’s porch is warm—the late afternoon sunrays falling over the three of them as they sprawl all over papers and books. There are empty cans of soda littering the wooden floor, but the pitcher of orange juice and three half-empty glasses are well away from their mess. Papers of math equations are strewn all over the place, mixed up with handwritten notes and textbooks and pieces of paper with English phrases on them. The pillow under his chin is utterly comfortable, and Rin thinks he might fall asleep on his history textbook. 

A pencil bounces off his head, startling him. He tilts his head and glares up at Haruka, who simply replies with “you’re falling asleep.” 

Makoto is chuckling, soft and warm like the sun on Rin’s face. “I don’t blame him.” He looks like he’s about to fall asleep himself, propped on a pillow with an open Japanese Literature book under his nose, his arm in line with Rin’s head. He nudges Rin’s forehead gently with his elbows. “You ‘re making me sleepy, Rin.” 

Rin buries his face into his pillow. “S’comfortable,” he mumbles, half-heartedly thinking about the history quiz the next day and the fact that he hadn’t been able to understand the same line he’s been staring at for the last fifteen minutes. “Fuck Nobunaga.” 

Haruka peers at him. “I thought you were reading about the Meiji era.” 

“He is,” Makoto confirms, reaching over to pulls Rin’s history textbook closer so he can get a good look. Rin forces himself to lift his head, enough so he can watch Makoto fingers the pages of his book and turning them one by one. “Did you turn your page at all, Rin?” 

Rin groans. “Don’t wanna.” 

“You’re screwed,” Haruka says, hits Rin’s back with a pillow once and lies down, head resting on the small of Rin’s back. It’s a reassuring weight, steady and nice, and Rin wriggles a little, getting himself comfortable as an impromptu bed for the dark-haired boy. He leans sideways a little, rests the side of his head against Makoto’s arm, and closes his eyes. 

This, he thinks, is their entire world right now. The three of them and books and papers and empty cans of soda and the sun, the sounds of crinkling paper under their weight and the turning of a page, the smell of dust and wood under his nose. This is what he knows, what he’s familiar with other than the water and Samezuka’s dorm and his family, what he wants to keep in his hands so he’d never lose it. 

Sprawled on Haruka’s porch, under the sun, with the warmth of Makoto and Haruka that makes his chest aches a little, Rin allows himself to stop thinking about everything and just feels.

**\-----o0o-----**


End file.
